


Grass and Summer Sun

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: Bahorel accidentally sees something completely unexpected.





	

It was a fine July morning. Nearly the whole 'founding circle' of Les Amis de'l ABC were gathered on the porch of what Marius' grandfather referred to as his 'tiny summer escape'. It was the morning after Marius' and Cosette's wedding. The ceremony itself was a simple, quiet affair held at a nearby curch, in Dijon, but the young couple have invited all their guests to stay for a little holiday afterwards.

It was a welcome break, things tended to get very hectic very quicky in the ABC – a politically active charity choir – especially in the summer when most of their concerts were scheduled.

 

But today all was well – the sun was out, the birds were singing, the slight breeze carried a pleasant fragrance – and Bahorel and Lesgle were arguing about the EU's foreign policy. As one's wont to do on such a fine morning.

Bahorel was convinced he was right – but then so was Lesgle.

There was nothing to it, an Expert opinion had to be asked for.

 

'Oi, Feuilly! D'you know if...' Bahorel shouted, but then he trailed off, realising the man he was addressing wasn't actually present.

'Were'd he go? Anyone seen Feuilly?'

'Haven't seen him since breakfast' said Lesgle 'Or Enjolas, for the matter' he added, wriggling his eyebrows.

'U-uh. Well anyway, now I want to know how he feels about the matter' said Bahorel, getting up 'Put aside a Euro, Eagle, I bet he agrees with me!'

Lesgle nodded and laid down a coin on the table with a flourish. After all, Feuilly was the group's resident expert on international politics, if he indeed backed up Baholrel's claims he was ready to concede.

Bahorel grinned and trotted off to find the man.

After five minutes he realised this might take longer than he originally thought. The manison (or rather, the château) was huge, and so was its garden. Hell, it had a patch of forest attached to the back yard!

Bahorel had a vague recollection of Feuilly heading out into the garden, towards the back of the house but that has been two hours ago, he could be anywhere by now.

His lips quirked up as he remembered that Enjolras too has vanished in the same general direction, not long after Feuilly was gone. It was unclear what exactly was going on between them – it was obvious from the start that they liked and deeply respected eachother but in the last month or so they have grown decidedly _friendlier_ than before. Nobody thought to push or question them (even though at least some of them were definitely curious – Courfeyrac even set up a betting pool) mostly beacause it lookled like even the two wasn't sure what was happening. Sure, Feuilly was bi but had no previous history with men and Enjolras expressed no interest in anyone at all before.

Baholrel shook his head with a smile. It was none of his business really, but it was still entertaining to watch their awkward dance. Like the other day when he saw Enjolras offer a cup of coffe to Feuilly, visibly anxious whether he got his usual order right, or the two of them engaged in an excited discussion about employment policies, heads bent together, Feuilly's hand itching closer and closer to Enjolras' until their fingertips touched.

He rounded the corner – and stopped dead in his tracks. Feuilly and Enjolras were there – clutching at eachother, pushing and showing, Feuilly by all appearences trying to capture the other man in a clumsy headlock.

Bahorel stared, frozen with shock. He couldn't imagine a falling out so dire that these two would raise a hand against eachother and yet...

Thankfully his brain caught up with him before he could lounge forward to tear the pair apart and their giggling and ear-splitting grins finally registered.

 

Bahorel blinked. They were...? Playing?

 

Intrigued now, he took a step back to remain in the house's shadow and leant against the wall, observing the other two. And certainly, by all evidence present, the ever dignified, severe leader of their choir and their serious, dedicated young artist were locked in a game of mock-wrestling, laughing like a bunch of five-year-olds, unapologetically silly and happier than Bahorel's ever seen them.

He shook his head with an incredulous smile. Now that the shock has passed and he had a chance to take a closer look it became clear that what the two young men were doing was more a dynamic cuddling than even a pretense at fighting. Their movements were careful and gentle, a playful excuse to touch each other, nothing else.

A little voice in the back of Bahorel's brain piped up to tell him that maybe he shouldn't be gawking at them like this but he couldn't bear to tear his eyes away just yet.

Meanwhile Feuilly attempted a tickle-attack but Enjolras distracted him with a strategically placed kiss on his cheek, swept his legs out from under him and gently lowered him onto the grass. Feuilly went without resistence, shrieking with laughter, but as soon as his back touched the ground he pulled Enjolras down and quickly rolled on top of him. The valiant chief surrendered without further ado and laid back in the grass, hugging Feuilly, both breathing heavily, still giggling fitfully.

They just lay there for a couple of seconds, locked in an embrace, catching their breath. When Enjolras tenderly treaded his hands into Feuilly's curls and when he in turn propped himslef up on his elbows to nuzzle Enjolras was when Bahorel finally turned and walked away. After all, this gentle display wasn't meant for him to see.

He was still smiling to himself when he found his way back to the others an plopped down between Joly and Cosette.

'Well, did you find him?' asked Lesgle.

'Yep.'

'And what did he say?'

'Say about...? Oh. Nothing. Didn't ask him' Bahorel said, then leant forward and continued in a conspiratory tone 'Wasn't up to talking, you see. Looks like he and Enjolras finally figured out how they feel about eachother.'

 


End file.
